


Falling Water

by moominliveshere



Category: Teenage Bounty Hunters (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26912617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moominliveshere/pseuds/moominliveshere
Summary: April always knew that she would leave Georgia at the first opportunity. She loves it, in that aching way that people love the places that have held them and nourished them for years and years. But she wants more.ORhow do april, sterling, and blair deal with the fallout of 1x10? where do they go and how do they come back together? really just three character studies that tie together, with themes of finding yourself and what it means to come home.
Relationships: April Stevens & Blair Wesley, April Stevens/Sterling Wesley, Blair Wesley & Sterling Wesley
Comments: 20
Kudos: 130





	1. falling water/april

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is 3 chapters long; I'll probably post a chapter a day. Chapter titles are named after Maggie Rogers songs because I've been listening to her music a lot lately. 
> 
> I really hope that another network or streaming platform decides to pick up TBH!! But here's my take on what the emotional fallout of 1x10 might be for these characters.

April always knew that she would leave Georgia at the first opportunity. She loves it, in that aching way that people love the places that have held them and nourished them for years and years. But she wants more.

When she goes to college, a small liberal arts school in the northeast, people assume she is thrilled to escape the South, that backwards, monolithic wasteland. The truth is complicated. Unlike her Yankee peers, she does not fear the South. She knows more intimately than most the prejudice, bigotry, and hatred that festers there. She also knows the warmth, the capacity for kindness and growth. She does not leave Atlanta as a damsel in distress, desperate for escape, but as a young person who sees the value in learning something new. She could have gone to UGA like half of her senior class or opted to differentiate herself somewhat by going to Emory or UVA. In hindsight, she’s sure she could have become someone exceptional at those schools. But applying to college senior year, she knows she wants a challenge, she wants more than Georgia can give her right now. So really, her decision isn’t about escape but about personal betterment, or at least that’s how she rationalizes it to herself.

Her first year in college is full of growing pains. April, unlike the vast majority of her peers, still attends church. Her roommate cottons on to the fact that April leaves the room early Sunday mornings and asks, in all seriousness, whether April thinks that she (her roommate) is going to hell for being a lesbian atheist. April sputters a completely incoherent response; later that week, she corrects herself, telling her roommate that Jesus’ greatest commandment is that we love one another. And that she’s a lesbian, too, thank you very much.

After that, her roommate, Jen, invites her to a meeting of their school’s queer student union. She feels deeply uncomfortable in the room, and uncharacteristically stumbles over her introduction, which is meant to include her preferred pronouns (optional), sexual orientation (optional), and favorite extracurricular activities (optional). She fumbles the first two, but draws a few smiles when she says that outside of school she enjoys and even excels at debate, “if you can believe it.” Despite her discomfort, she continues to attend QSU meetings, even getting involved in some of the events they hold on campus. She learns the names of the other students and by the end of the semester, she feels like she is part of a real community.

April doesn’t go home at Thanksgiving but does return for winter break. She wants to be with her family at Christmas. Part of her is bursting to tell them about how she’s a big, fat lesbian. But the other part is terrified. The terrified part wins the day and when she goes back to school, she sobs in her dorm room. College doesn’t feel quite right, but neither does home. She has never felt so out of place before.

That spring, she takes Intro to Gender Studies along with courses in political science and history. Judith Butler changes her life. She buys a million button downs and donates all of her Lily Pulitzer to Goodwill. She dyes a strand of her hair dark blue. She downloads Tinder. She goes on a date with a girl who literally got out of an open relationship the day before their date. She goes on another date with a girl who has a septum piercing and invites her back to her place to smoke weed. She declines the invitation, but still makes out with the girl. She goes on multiple dates with a hot as fuck nonbinary person. She is kind of falling for them until they tell her that they’re rebounding pretty hard right now and don’t have the emotional energy for anything serious. Which, fair. The point is, she’s dating. She’s moving forward. She’s…still checking Sterling’s Facebook and Instagram at least once a week, but unlike the whole of her final year of high school, she is not obsessing over her.

It’s not until her senior year of college that April finally goes to therapy. Her therapist, Katie, is about ten years older than her and about a million times wiser. She helps her unravel the thread of her fear of telling her homophobic parents that she is a lesbian. It seems straightforward at first, but Katie shifts her perspective until she can see that there’s more at play than just a fear of rejection and vitriol. There’s shame, deep-seated despite her precocious knowledge of her sexual orientation. April thought she had mastered radical self-acceptance: she grew up in a church that viewed homosexuality as a sin. Against all odds, she realized she was gay. Against even greater odds, she decided that God loved her no matter what. But where God’s love for her is infinite and certain, her love for herself is much less so. Her family, as Katie sees it, has a thread of secret shame running through it. Her father’s adultery and his violence toward a sex worker were largely covered up and never explicitly discussed with her. Her mother never spoke a word against her father but April could hear her sobs in the middle of the night, could tell when she had taken a Xanax to get through the day. Shame is easy to internalize. It exists in the shadows most of the time, so you can hardly see it grow. But the longer you leave it hidden away, the stronger and more unwieldy it becomes. And the more likely it is to stand in the way of true self-acceptance.

April cries in each of the fourteen sessions that she has with Katie. After the fourteenth session, she thanks Katie for her time, then calls her parents and comes out to them. She tells them how she has known this piece of her since she was a small child but had let her fear stand in the way of telling them the truth. But not anymore because, as she puts it, God loves her and she loves herself. Her parents are speechless for a long moment. She can almost see smoke coming out of her dad’s ears. He starts ranting about how he shouldn’t have paid for her to go to “that damn haven for the liberal coastal elites” before accidentally hanging up. Her mother, less angry and more confused, asks her how she could have been led astray. She tells her she will send her resources for Christian parents of LGBT kids before gently hanging up the phone.

Before she even knows what she’s doing, April is searching and then calling an old but familiar number in her phone: Sterling Wesley. Sterling picks up on the first ring, answering with a confused, “April?” April breathes out for a second. “Hey,” Sterling says, her Southern lilt drawing out the greeting. “Are you okay?” The dam breaks at those soft caring words and April starts to cry. Who knows what Sterling was doing just then? Later, April would learn that Sterling was sitting in Blair’s apartment and that Blair, upon seeing who was calling, had rolled her eyes and walked to the kitchen to make nachos. But in the moment, April only knows that Sterling has answered the phone for her even though they haven’t had a real conversation in four years. April’s story comes spilling out of her: how she had been afraid of the other queers at QSU, how she loved gender studies, how she was going to be a lawyer to fight for human rights, how she had so much shame tied to her family. And how, finally, she had had the courage to tell them who she was. Sterling’s first response is short and sweet. “April…I’m so proud of you.”

April always knew that she would leave Georgia at the first opportunity. What she hadn’t expected was that she would return someday. There is an adage that you can never go home again. Conventional wisdom would have you believe that this is because “home” lives in our memories and can never be reproduced. Though technically true, there is always the remote possibility that with time, we can go home again. Over time, home changes and, simultaneously, we change. Sometimes, if we are very lucky, these changes can correspond and allow for a whole new dynamic, a whole new home, in the same beautiful place we have known before.

That’s how it is for April. When she returns to Atlanta, it is not with a sense of nostalgia, but with a sense of hope for her future. Her time away has invigorated her and set her on a previously unknown path as a public defender. Her years in the QSU have made her a more thoughtful, compassionate person, someone with a strong sense of community. She has always had a great capacity to love (sometimes even a little too great—just ask Adele Meisner’s mom). But only through many failed dates, many good friends, and some excellent therapy has she been able to access her capacity to permit herself to be loved. So when Sterling asks her on a date for the first time, she says yes. When Sterling asks her to go to Blair’s art show as her plus one, she says yes. When Sterling moves to hold her hand at the event, she takes it and gives it a squeeze.


	2. burning/sterling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At first glance, Sterling’s post-high school life is exactly as cliched as Blair had predicted so many years ago during Their Meanest Fight Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I identified much with Sterling, but this chapter came to me so easily. Also, dialogue! In my character study? It's more likely than you think.

At first glance, Sterling’s post-high school life is exactly as cliched as Blair had predicted so many years ago during Their Meanest Fight Ever. She goes to UGA (go dawgs!), pledges and joins a sorority, and bleaches her hair an even lighter shade of blonde one drunken evening. But, of course, there is nuance to her story because beyond the wealthy Southern prep surface, there is a history fit for a soap opera.

How do you cope when you learn that your crazy aunt is actually your crazy biological mom? That your loving parents have lied to you for your entire life? That your sister, your twin, is technically your cousin? Well, in Sterling’s case, you cope by putting that information in a box and setting the box inside a larger box and then stuffing that box into the darkest recesses of your mind storage locker. But first, you tie up some loose ends.

The morning after these twisted revelations, Sterling wakes up in bed next to Blair. She stares at the ceiling for an hour or so, fingers interlocked across her stomach. She has always been a happy-go-lucky kid, an optimist. Her sunny outlook has never been overshadowed by real pain before, she suddenly realizes. And this is real pain. It’s still only 5am. She gets up quietly, careful not to wake Blair.

She finds herself in the Volt, charting a course for April’s house. It’s a 15-minute drive according to her GPS. She realizes that she probably should have left a note or something so that her parents and Blair don’t worry. An ugly part of her thinks that they shouldn’t care anyway, they’re not her real parents. The sun is coming up, though, and she knows that’s not true. They do care. They love her. They may have lied to her every single day for her entire life, but they love her. She shivers, remembering the way her mom, whom she had never seen use a firearm before, cocked the shot gun and aimed it at…her other mom. Fuck. She really can’t think about this right now.

Luckily, she’s arrived at April’s. She parks down the street, not wanting April’s parents to know she’s there. She sneaks around to the back of the house, glancing at the sporting equipment in the backyard. She has a vivid memory of jumping on the trampoline as a child, bouncing higher and higher, completely carefree until Hannah B. had knocked her head against one of the side poles and started screaming. A simpler time. She grabs a few pebbles from the Stevens’ gravel driveway and takes aim at the window that she believes belongs to April. Only now, as she’s tossing pebbles at April’s window, does she remember that April is most likely still at the fucking lock-in. Duh.

She throws one more pebble and is about to leave when April’s face, mad as a hornet, appears. She gives a half wave. April’s face contorts when she sees that it’s Sterling. Once she completes her face journey, she holds up a finger and mouths, “Wait a sec.” Sterling nods. A minute later, April is downstairs and out the door. She’s wearing a half-length robe over the pajamas she had worn at the lock-in.

"What are you doing here?” she hisses at Sterling.

“What am _I_ doing here? You’re supposed to be at the lock-in,” Sterling fires back.

“Um, this is my house, Sterling, I came back here because…of…reasons that are really none of your business. So if we’re competing to decide who has more of a right to be here, then, it’s me,” April says, still whispering, but less frantic and more haughty. This is her home turf after all.

Sterling gulps. “Um. Good point.”

They pause for a second and April takes in Sterling’s bedraggled appearance. She hadn’t showered post-kidnapping, or even changed out of the previous night’s clothes. Suddenly, April’s uncertainty about this situation is couched less in self-righteous indignation and more in…concern.

"Sterl, are you okay?”

Sterling shakes her head at the question, biting her lip to stop from crying. The whole story of the last 8 hours or so comes pouring out. This is the first time that Sterling tells someone about her fucked up family situation, the first time she attempts to construct a coherent narrative around events that feel unreal. In the future, the narrative will be stronger—she’ll be able to sum things up in a couple of sentences, she’ll know how to laugh self-deprecatingly about how zany her family is. But that first time, it’s raw. By the end of it, they have moved to sit in April’s younger sister’s playhouse and April’s hand is resting on Sterling’s forearm.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“No, it’s okay, you don’t need to know—”

“No, I--you were _really_ brave and—Blair, Blair is _still_ your sister, Sterling. I’ve never met two people more in sync than you and her. And your parents, well. I know how it feels when parents lie. But, Sterl, there’s so much love in your family.”

April’s words are half-formed, and she looks frustrated, like she’s not articulating herself properly, but Sterling feels like crying again.

“Thanks, April. Seriously, thank you.” She takes a deep breath.

“I’m just trying to get a grip on everything. Look, the worst part of this whole thing might be how my parents lied to me for so long. And, it made me realize that I need to be honest with you. Because I asked so much from you, last night, and I wasn’t even fully truthful and--well, you deserve the truth.”

April’s brow furrows at that. Sterling tells her the real reason Mr. Stevens was asking about her and Blair when he got home. Not because he thought she was a lesbian, but because he’s angry that a couple of teenage bounty hunters hauled him to the police station.

As she finishes telling April the truth, she can feel a distance growing between them. She looks up and April is standing (well, crouching, really—this playhouse was not built for teens).

“I have to go.”

Fuck.

“I’m sorry about last night, Sterling, I really am. About your family and--I wanted to,” April’s voice cracks, “to hold your hand. But it’s just too much for me right now. And now you’re telling me that my dad was asking about you for completely different, kind of batshit crazy, reasons.”

Sterling nods slowly. She gets it.

“I understand. I didn’t come here thinking we would get back together, or, or, together in the first place since I’m not even sure if we were ever official. I just wanted this information to come from me and not from the rumor mill at school or, you know, from your dad.”

They hear April’s mom calling out, all of a sudden. April looks so sad and Sterling is sure she looks the same.

“I have to go, for real.”

Sterling nods again.

“Just wait five minutes and then go,” says April, before walking out of the playhouse. Sterling can hear her calling back to her mom, “Coming, mom! I thought I saw a raccoon out by the playhouse!”

Five minutes later, Sterling is back in the Volt, heading home. She’s home by 6:30 and no one is the wiser about her absence. Thank God.

Sterling and April do not talk for years after that. They pass each other in the hallway at school, converse during Spanish class when necessary, and occasionally like a post on Instagram. But that’s it. Sterling tells a few more people about the night she was kidnapped by her aunt/mom: Ellen, her therapist, Luke, a different therapist when the first one doesn’t work out, her first girlfriend, her second boyfriend. But she never again digs into her feelings about it and no one ever comforts her the way the few sentences that April managed to blurt out in the moment comforted her.

She realizes that she has big dreams for herself, dreams that expand beyond her parents and even Blair. Part of growing up means growing apart from the people you love so that you have space to grow into yourself. To be fair, most people do not have their understanding of their family structure ripped away from them on this journey. But the experience, as earth-shattering as it feels, does not destroy her. She has a stable foundation, so even if the house of her life is damaged, she is able to rebuild. After a few weeks of moping, she opts not to dwell on the experience. Her sister is her sister. Her parents are her parents. She is brave enough and loved enough to move forward.

Sterling decides that UGA is the right place to pursue her dreams, even if it is the expected choice for her. She feels free in college. Free to be a cliché if she wants, or not. Despite making some conventional choices, Sterling is her own person. She pursues a dual degree in English and journalism, specializing in creative nonfiction (Joan Didion’s _On Going Home_ changes her life). She stops going to church for a while, then starts again when a friend introduces her to an LGBT friendly church. She volunteers at an LGBT youth homeless shelter. She studies abroad in Madrid junior year and uses the experiences as part of her senior capstone project. She still bounty hunts on the side (she gets licensed in the state of Georgia when she turns 18), usually when she is home for holidays and can help out Bowser.

She and Blair are sitting in Blair’s apartment in Atlanta one evening with the TV turned down low, just chatting. She’s home that summer for a freelancing journalism gig that might turn into a full-time gig in the fall. She and Blair are discussing Blair’s latest crush, laughing somewhat maniacally at a Snapchat of them wearing a tiny fisherman’s beanie and proudly holding a tiny fish up to the camera. Sterling’s enjoying a glass of rose and is about to ask Blair if she wants a top up when her phone starts ringing. It’s weird because she almost always has it on silent. But not today. She figures it’s a spam call and is about to end the call when she sees the name: April Stevens. She shows it to Blair wordlessly. Blair rolls her eyes a little then gives her a little shove, “Answer it, dummy!” Sterling nods and swipes right, “April?”

She and April talk for about an hour. It turns out, April is back in Atlanta, so they make a plan to meet up for coffee in the next week. Before they hang up, April says, “I missed you.” Sterling smiles at that. “I missed you, too.” (Blair feigns gagging).

At first glance, Sterling’s post-high school life might seem exactly as cliched as Blair had predicted so many years ago during Their Meanest Fight Ever. But the truth is, Sterling has worked hard to become herself and she doesn’t really give a fuck if other people think she’s boring. In high school, Sterling had no boundaries with pretty much anyone. Breaking up with Luke was probably the closest she got to setting a real boundary, to differentiating herself from someone she loved. Now, it’s second nature because she finally, finally knows who she is. She’s a loving, open, thoughtful, deeply trusting (sometimes gullible), strong person. She is part of a flawed family and she loves them for their flaws. She would do anything for the people that she loves, including answering the phone after years of not talking.


	3. alaska/blair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At 16, Blair Wesley feels like her life is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Blair! I somehow feel most protective of her. I would've loved to have seen a friendship grow between April and Blair. 
> 
> This is the last chapter of the first fic I have written in a VERY long time. Thank you to everyone who has read and special thanks to those who have commented--your comments really have meant the world <3 Stay well!

At 16, Blair Wesley feels like her life is over. She _knows_ that life as she knows it is over. She wants to scream when Dana reveals that she’s Sterling’s mom. Because that means her sister isn’t her sister. That means her mom and dad have been lying to them for years. That means that the trauma induced by searching for and rescuing Sterling isn’t over: it’s just begun.

Blair is a sensitive person. She’s tough as nails, for sure. She can, against all odds, tackle and beat up a grown man if needed. But she feels very deeply. Unlike her sister, her circle of trust is small. She prays every night before bed, like the good Christian girl she is. Her prayers have always been quicker than Sterling’s—when they were seven, Sterling once included the classroom pet guinea pig and every girl on her soccer team, by name, in her prayers, just to give an example. Blair, on the other hand, says a nearly identical prayer each night, one that includes her sister and her parents. It had expanded to include Luke at one point, and Miles. Now the only regular additions to her family are Bowser and Yolanda. Occasionally she’ll throw in a prayer for Ellen to maybe find something that she loves outside of Willingham or for Hannah B. to stand up to April. She cares about humanity on like, a global scale, but as for individuals, she prefers to be selective with her love.

When she and Sterling look at each other after Dana tells them the big family secret, it’s like they’re frozen in time. Blair stares and sees only her sister’s face as it is, wide, blue eyes, blonde hair. She’d always thought her sister looked like their mom, where she favored her dad. Sterling’s mouth is hanging open, and so is Blair’s, and it’s like they’re waiting for something. For the cops to come, for their parents to say that Dana is full of shit. A voice in the back of Blair’s head is wondering what is wrong with them and why they aren’t doing their typical twin-speak commentary on the situation. It’s because they’re not twins, the voice realizes. Blair blinks and life speeds up again. Bowser runs to them and starts ushering them toward his car, clearly wanting to get them to safety before the cops arrived. Her father turns to them, caught between them and his wife. Debbie gives a slight nod in their direction and he runs over to them, babbling about how he’s sick and tired of secrets and how he loves her and Sterling equally and how this doesn’t change anything. Blair tunes him out.

That night, they curl up in Sterling’s bed, exhausted, and try to sleep. Blair wakes up before Sterling, but pretends to sleep, taking deep, even breaths. She wants to stay in the bubble of their room for as long as she can. Sterling, it turns out, has other plans. Blair peers over her shoulder as subtly as she can while feigning sleep and sees that Sterling is checking the route from their house to Elm Street. Where April lives, she realizes. Sterling pops out of bed and a couple of minutes later, Blair hears the Volt start up. She sighs. She wonders if it would be a good idea to tell Miles about their bounty hunting, since Sterling is clearly going to tell April. She decides against it, too proud to explain herself to a boy who wouldn’t even tell his family about her.

“Who does Miles even think he is?” Blair wonders to Bowser one day when they’re hovering awkwardly behind the counter at Yogurtopia. At this point, Bowser has recognized that Blair is displacing a great deal of her distress about her family situation by fixating on Miles. Though he is kind enough not to state this observation aloud, Blair is vaguely aware. But she can’t stop. She trusted Miles. She _loved_ him. How could that not be enough?

“It’s crap, is what it is,” she says. “And bullshit,” she adds defiantly. Bowser nods and Blair just sighs. Sterling’s not even there to agree with her and then correct her language, so really, what’s the point? Blair has been present for all of her Yogurtopia shifts, in an effort to convince Bowser to let her participate in bounty hunting again. So far, he’s agreed that she can help in research efforts but that’s it. Sterling has been avoiding this place like the plague, so there’s always a solemn note in their discussions, as if both Blair and Bowser recognize that their dynamic is off. They’re trying their best.

And then, about two months after that fateful night, things start to look up again. It’s a weekday morning in the Wesley household. They have all been trying their hardest to normalize and lean on routine to smooth over any tension. Perhaps a little too hard. Bacon and eggs are sizzling on the stove and her mom is pulling homemade biscuits, the kind she usually only makes on Christmas morning, out of the oven. Blair and Sterling are at the table, discussing some gossip from the lacrosse team. Their mom sets the carton of orange juice on the table, telling them breakfast will be ready soon.

Then she sits down (unusual for her on a school day) and says in an overly cheerful voice, “You know girls, your father and I have been wondering how that wonderful Mr. Bowser of yours over at Yogurtopia is doing! We just wanted to take a gift over there sometime this week to thank him for all that he’s done for us and for y’all.”

Blair and Sterling look at each other.

“She knows.”

“Holy shit she totally knows!”

“Language, Blair!”

“Sorry. Okay wait, maybe she’s suspicious but she doesn’t _actually_ know!”

“You’re right! Let’s play it cool. Maybe she’s just trying to be nice.”

“Cool. Got it. Also, I love your hair today, so cute with the lil pigtails.”

“Awwww thank you, I love your braid!”

Debbie’s voice suddenly cuts through, “Girls! Umm, Earth to Sterling and Blair Wesley! I need to know when y’all’s next shift is and maybe we can drop the gift off then.”

“Oh, sorry, mom,” Sterling says, “We just…” Sterling breaks into a wide grin.

“Yeah,” Blair says, with a smile just as big, “We just!!”

“Mmmkay,” Debbie drawls, not really wanting to get into anything right now, “So, when’s your next shift?” she asks again.

“Mine’ll be Thursday, evening shift,” Blair says. “I think Sterl might be busy, though…” she trails off, trying to figure out a cover story for Sterling. Her parents don’t know she’s been bailing on shifts.

“No, I’m not, actually,” Sterling says.

“Oh…really?”

“Really.”

They smile at each other. Blair knows, right then, that they are going to be alright.

Once they have their twin-speak again, Blair feels a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. She can breathe again.

Life moves on and Blair eventually goes to college. To everyone’s surprise, she decides to go to UNC Chapel Hill. Some people (Sterling) might call it the UGA of North Carolina, but she doesn’t pay them (Sterling) any mind. No one knows her at UNC and she takes full advantage of that. She double majors in philosophy and studio art. Her parents are horrified at first, but less so when she explains to them that the philosophy degree will set her up for a career in criminal justice. She takes a ceramics class and sculpts a pot for her final project. She molds phoenix feathers and scales into the sides of the pot and shapes the mouth into a fiery beak. She sees the pot as a mirror of herself, an attempt to show how all the pain she has endured can be transformed into something beautiful and useful. At the end of semester show, she explains the meaning of the pot to her professor. She cries and gives Blair an A for the project (Blair still gets an B in the class, which is fair considering she did most of her work after class hours).

At 16, Blair Wesley feels like her life is over. Years later, she knows that her life had just begun. She moves back to Atlanta after college, drawn back to the city by forces that feel outside of herself. She has a day job as a paralegal and side gigs bounty hunting and creating clay sculptures. Her circle is still small, these days, but it’s never felt so complete before. To her eternal surprise, the circle now includes April, who is actually kind of cool and maybe has taken the stick out of her ass since high school.

Time has given Blair perspective, and the ability to realize that she is not, in fact, the center of the universe. She thinks back to the times April had lashed out at her and how she had lashed out in response, stung. She doesn’t think that April was right to do that, but now she wonders what would have happened if she had noticed that maybe things weren’t as okay with April as she thought. She doesn’t mention these thoughts to Sterling, who she knows has guilty thoughts along these lines without her input, but she does make an effort to include April. For example, an invite to Wesley Sister Movie Night at Blair’s apartment. Blair’s new SO, Jamie, is out of town at a conference and can’t make it (though they send her cute pics of them cuddled up in a motel room a thousand miles away). Sterling and April hang around in the kitchen while Blair makes nachos for three.

“Can you add black olives to my third of the pan, please?” April asks primly.

Blair screws up her face, “That’s disgusting, Stevens, absolutely not.”

“Blair!” Sterling glares at her. “Yes, babe, let me get the black olives for you…even if that is disgusting.”

“Hey!”

“Ha!”

Half an hour later, they’re settled on the couch, about to watch some cheesy Interflix rom-com (Sterling’s choice). Sterling has plopped down in the middle of the couch, with her arms wrapped around April and Blair. She is thrilled to be sitting between “her favorite girls.”

"What about Chloe?" Blair asks.

“...Two of my favorite girls.”

As the movie starts, April says softly and probably to Sterling, “This is so nice.”

Blair’s not even sure she’s supposed to hear it, but she turns her head to murmur a reply anyway. “I’m happy you’re here,” she says. And she means it.


End file.
